His Sacrifice
by Sda209
Summary: For Maka and Soul, the world as they knew it was falling apart around them, and the great invasion of Death City only worsened matters. When a loved one sacrifices his own life in exchanged for her own during battle, how could she cope with his death? -Suggestive Themes (Edited: 1/16/2014).


**Edited 1/16/2014.**

**A/N: Hello everyone, my name is Sda209. This idea of mine is a bit of an old one. I've been intending to do this for a little while, and it was very interesting while I was writing it. Reading some of the tragedies with Spirit and Maka, I felt that they were missing the aspect of the tragedy in battle. Even if they did, it was only mentioned. I don't think any other tragedy with those two involves a direct tragedy in battle, however, so I would like to see if I can do that well.**

**Please point out anything wrong with my fan fiction. I'm being vague here on purpose: I want to know how I have executed "His Sacrifice". Thank for you reading my work, and giving a well thought-out review (if you did). I'm planning a few more stories, but I don't want to drag on this author's note (and because I still got an epic to write).**

**Have a wonderful day.**

**-Sda209.**

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Death.

That was the only thing Maka saw around her.

It felt like a blur to her, but she knew that everything was happening at a normal speed. Her mind was having a difficult time comprehending what's going on around her, but she could feel the intensity of battle. Maka dodged and blocked, trying to fight back the attackers; an enemy she did not know. Something searing and sharp grazed her upper arm, earning a grunt of pain from her dry lips. Excruciating pain was the only thing that she still could comprehend, but she slashed and hacked, no matter the injuries she sustained or felt.

Only when a familiar cry did her thoughts returned into reality.

Just as she made a downward slash on a witch, dismembering her in half, her eyes widened with horror. A beam of magic was speeding towards her like lightning. Her body, completely frozen by the terror flowing in her vessels, refused to move. Too slow, you're dead, that's how combat—how war—works. Death was coming for her, not Lord Death, but real Death. That beam of magical energy, she awaited for the agony that would soon follow, and the Death that would claim her like prey. Just as the beam was about to hit, someone big leaped in front of her.

It wasn't Soul, but someone much taller than her. The beam hit him, instead of her, sparing her from the claws of Death. He was thrown back harshly into the air, only to fall to the earth, crashing against the stone wall and leaving cracks in his wake. For a moment, fear still gripped her very body, but it wasn't because of the witches, no, it was the identity of that man who saved her. Only did his identity clicked in her mind that Maka gave a cry of horror.

Spirit—her father, her bastard father—spared her from Death.

Before she could think any further, Maka found herself feeling a rage—a rage unlike any other she ever felt—suddenly replacing her fear. This time, she allowed it to control her, heighten her, agitate her. With a war screech, Maka bolted towards the witches and made a horizontal slash across their torsos, slicing them clean as the splashes of blood sprayed onto Maka's clothes and face, painting her cheeks, her cloak, her boots, her skirt, her shirt, dark red. However, she did not relent her attack.

Angrily, she turned to the corpses and began to unleash her already build-up anger. She screamed like a lion, landing countless stabs and slashes onto the corpses of the witches, dismembering them even further. Her eyes were glazed, her face scrunched up in fury, and everything around her was once again a blur. Muffled cries of agony and terror filled her ears as multiple booms echoed in the distance. Something huge flew over her, emanating sounds that would have made a man deaf, but her hearing was barely working. Her eyes were barely working, her nose was barely working, her body was barely working, and the only thing that they all knew was to kill.

One final stab to a downed witch did Maka finally awakened back to reality.

Her knees were shaking, her clenched and sweaty hands visibly trembling, as she collapsed on the ground on her knees. Her hands dropped Soul, discarding him like a crumpled wrapper, and drooped on the ground beside her sides as she broke down into a weep. She saw her father die before her very eyes. She saw the anguish in his face, his eyes, and could almost feel the terrible agony he felt defending his own daughter—his very own daughter, who hated him and spat on him with words that made him cry every night, knowing that he will never be able to regain her daughter's love.

It made Maka guilty. She was planning to forgive her father today for all of the terrible things she had said to him, and the sinful acts he committed towards his wife and her mother. She realized her mistake after the biggest fight they had last night, concerning her and Soul becoming more than friends and the invasion happened, she was so scared, so terrified, that she might not survive through this horrific battle to tell her father how she really felt, after the fight. It was almost funny, in a way that Maka sometimes wished that Papa would disappear from her life and never come back. Today, her wish was granted; now he did and he's out of her life, for good.

But, that was the past: Maka didn't want him to disappear now, she wanted him to live!

Maka continued to weep, her partner, now in his human form, gazing at her in sorrow as he gave a short glance at Spirit's dead form. Soul Eater Evans was silent as he let her weep, not knowing what to do. Even he was affected by Spirit's death. However, Maka knew that her father's death was of his own choosing. It was a sacrifice—his sacrifice—that he chose. She knew that he still loved her, no matter how hurtful his words were. But, she never forgave him before he died.

She wanted him to live, to survive, to see the day that Maka finally forgives him.

That would never happen, because Papa's dead, and Maka never forgave him.

Life is unfair, fate is unfair, everything's unfair.

Death City is under attack, the world is against them, the witches are invading Death City.

And the only thing that broke her was the death of her father, Spirit Albarn.

How sad.

She will never be able to forgive him, but she will always remember his sacrifice.


End file.
